


Hold On To That Feeling

by lovetheblazer



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, TW: Mentions of Finn's Death, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaine spoiler spec for 5x05 “The End of Twerk.” TW for a brief mention of Finn's death. Written for Meaghan (klaine-swift on Tumblr) one of my very favorite people, who I owe a (very belated) birthday gift</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On To That Feeling

Kurt groaned at the sound of a door slamming, the noise reverberating in time to the throbbing in his head. He forced his bleary eyes open a crack, wincing at the bright light streaming in through his bedroom window. Kurt reached blindly for his phone, finally locating under his pillow with considerable effort.

 

He blinked his eyes open once more, scrolling through his text messages.

 

**Blaine (9:08 AM):** Good morning beautiful

**Blaine (9:12 AM):** How are you feeling today?

**Blaine (9:12 AM):** I suspect you are going to have a killer hangover

**Blaine (9:35 AM):** I'm on Skype now so just call me whenever you wake up

 

**Santana (9:55 AM):** I'm headed out to meet Dani for breakfast – want me to bring you something back?

 

“Bless you, woman,” Kurt muttered under his breath as he typed out a quick reply.

 

**To Santana (9:58 AM):** Oh god yes...coffee please? And a bagel if possible. I'm 100% sure Rachel is every bit as hung over as me so she'll have the same :)

 

Kurt tossed his phone back onto the bed, forcing himself up with a stiffed moan. He steadied himself on the edge of the bed, breathing slowly as the room spun slightly and another wave of nausea hit him. Once the world righted itself once more, he grabbed the bottle of water on his nightstand and staggered towards the bathroom.

 

He winced at his haggard complexion in the bathroom mirror, then opened the medicine cabinet and reached for the bottle of Advil. He shook three pills into his hand, downing them with half the bottle of water. He was just reaching for his toothbrush when a strange stinging pain stopped him. Kurt frowned, reaching under his shirt until his fingers traced a thick waterproof bandage covering the skin on his back, just below his right shoulder blade. _What the fuck._

 

Stomach churning, Kurt pulled off his shirt and turned his back toward the mirror. He looked over his shoulder as he gently peeled the side of bandage away from his tender skin, wincing slightly. He took one look at the words inked on his skin, dropped to his knees, and promptly threw up.

 

*

 

“Please be there – pick up, pick up, c'mon” Kurt whispered fifteen minutes later, staring into his web cam as he waited impatiently for Blaine to accept his Skype call.

 

“Hey there, killer,” Blaine greeted him with a bemused grin. “How are we doing this lovely morning?”

 

“Inside voice, please,” Kurt groaned.

 

“That bad, huh?” Blaine chuckled. His face softened as he saw how miserable Kurt looked, asking “Did you take Tylenol or something?”

 

Kurt nodded, holding up the bottle of water and bottle of Advil.

 

“That's good.”

 

“So I did something stupid last night,” Kurt blurted out, before he could lose his nerve.

 

“Yeah something like stupid like drinking a whole liquor store? I know, baby, you drunk dialed me like five times,” Blaine replied with a wink.

 

“Oh god,” Kurt moaned dropping his head to his hands. “No, it's worse than that,” he mumbled.

 

“Just tell me, Kurt. It can't be that terrible,” Blaine encouraged.

 

“First, just promise me one thing – swear you won't break up with me, okay?”

 

“Kurt,” Blaine admonished, “there's nothing you could do that would make me not want to be with you. You're my fiance, after all. Even if you murdered someone, I'd just help you figure out a way to stay out of jail, okay?”

 

Kurt gazed at his laptop screen, taking in Blaine's deadly serious gaze. “I love you,” he whispered, his eyes soft. “You should be here now – why aren't you here?”

 

“I would if I could, in a heartbeat,” Blaine smiled. “So what's the big secret?”

 

“Rachel may have talked me into getting a tattoo,” Kurt mumbled quietly.

 

“Uhh say that again,” Blaine managed, turning up the volume on his laptop and leaning forward a bit.

 

“I was drunk and so was Rachel and she asked me to come with her to get a tattoo and I _may_ have gotten one too?”

 

“You – got a tattoo?” Blaine asked, eyes going dark.

 

“I – yes?” Kurt squeaked. Blaine was quiet for a long moment, simply staring at Kurt, his cheeks flushed. “Blaine please, just say _something_ ,” Kurt begged when the silence became unbearable.

 

“That's hot,” Blaine replied, his voice suddenly gravely and low. “Can I see it? Where it is?”

 

“My back and it's so embarrassing, oh god...” Kurt trailed off.

 

“Why embarrassing? You didn't get a tramp stamp, did you?” Blaine asked, trying to hide the slightly horrified look in his eyes.

 

“Oh god no, thank god,” Kurt was quick to reassure. “But they – uh – made a mistake? It was going to be a cliched tattoo to begin with but now it's just so much worse and it's humiliating and I'm never drinking again and I just -”

 

“Kurt!” Blaine interrupted. “Shh stop and take a breath. It's going to be fine. Just let me see it, okay?”

 

“I – okay,” Kurt sighed. “Guess it's best to just rip off the metaphorical bandaid.” He silently tugged his shirt over his head, taking a deep breath before turning around so his back was to his webcam.

 

Kurt heard Blaine gasp quietly and bit the inside of his lip, stomach churning once again.

 

“Does it say...?” Blaine trailed off. “Can you move a little closer to the camera, honey?”

 

Kurt did as Blaine asked reluctantly, shivering slightly in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature in the loft and everything to do with the way he could practically _feel_ Blaine's gaze raking over his exposed body, taking in the humiliating words inked on his tender flesh.

 

“Okay,” Blaine said quietly a moment later. “You can turn around now.”

 

Kurt took his time sliding his shirt back on, nervous to face Blaine after he'd seen _that._ He took a deep breath as he turned around, picking up the laptop and settling it on his lap as he sank back onto the bed.

 

“So,” Blaine began with a sympathetic smile.

 

“So,” Kurt echoed. “My life is basically over.”

 

“Kurt,” Blaine chuckled good-naturedly. “It is decidedly _not_ over. Don't be so dramatic.”

 

“Easy for you to say! You aren't the world's first gay man with the words “it gets wetter” tattooed on your back. LIKE WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? I'll never be able to shower at the gym again. People will think I'm some sort of weird fetishist,” Kurt shouted hysterically.

 

“Honey,” Blaine soothed. “It's going to be okay. We'll figure out a way to fix it. But let's start at the beginning. Tell me the story. What did you mean to get tattooed?”

 

“It's all kind of a blur. We were _really_ drunk. But Rachel had been having a rough week with Funny Girl rehearsals. She's had to sing “My Man” all week which reminded her of Finn, obviously,” Kurt began. Blaine nodded, encouraging him to continue.

 

“Anyways, she asked me to meet her at this bar downtown after rehearsals ended Friday and they had two for one Long Island Iced Teas which is basically a recipe for disaster. While we were drinking, she told me that she wanted to do something in Finn's memory and she'd been thinking about getting a tattoo. She begged me to come and hold her hand while she did it, and of course I couldn't say no. I wasn't planning on getting a tattoo myself. But somewhere around the fourth or fifth Long Island Iced Tea, I started thinking maybe I would?

 

“Obviously the guy fucked it up, but what were you _trying_ to get tattooed?” Blaine asked.

 

“It gets better – which obviously is stupid too and kind of cliched but still so much better than 'it gets wetter.' I just...I wanted something that was in memory of Finn as well, but not something depressing like RIP Finn or whatever. I wanted something to help me remember the best of him and something that was more...”

 

“Hopeful?” Blaine suggested.

 

“Yeah exactly, but the problem was that I was so drunk at that point I couldn't think straight. And the tattoo guy was getting impatient waiting on me to make up my mind and someone suggested 'it gets better' and before I knew it, I was writing that down on my tattoo form and it was all over. I have no idea how that tattooed Neanderthal got a B confused for a W or thought that I looked like the kind of guy who would say the words “it gets wetter” let alone tattoo them on my body, but...”

 

“You should get a refund at the very least,” Blaine agreed.

 

“I'm so fucked, Blaine. What am I going to do? My dad is going to kill me.”

 

“I'm sure if you went to a different tattoo shop, they could change the W to a B.”

 

“Yeah, but the problem is that 'it gets better' is dumb too. Don't get me wrong, it's a million times better than 'it gets wetter' but it's still trite and just ugh. Not to mention that it really has nothing to do with Finn which was the whole point to begin with.” Kurt massaged his temples, trying to dull the throbbing.

 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Your best bet is to get the whole thing tattooed over with something you like more. The good news is that it's pretty small so that shouldn't be that tough to do. We just need an idea first,” Blaine said, eyebrows furrowed, obviously thinking hard.

 

“Well, as you can see, I'm full of nothing but bad ideas lately. Not to mention that my head feels like it's being hit with a jackhammer right now,” Kurt groaned.

 

“How about you leave the thinking to me, then?” Blaine suggested. “I can sketch some options for new designs if you like?”

 

“Really?” Kurt asked, feeling the tiniest bit of hope piercing the black rain cloud he'd been under since he woke up this morning. “You'd do that for me?”

 

“I'd do anything for you,” Blaine answered instantly. “You are my future husband to be, after all,” he continued with a lopsided grin.

 

Kurt smiled back, unconsciously fiddling with the engagement ring on his finger. He jolted slightly at the sudden noise of the front door slamming, wincing as the sound reverberated through his skull.

 

“You okay?” Blaine asked, looking worried.

 

“Yeah,” Kurt groaned. “Santana and Dani are back and they're just _loud._ I'd probably kill Santana if she wasn't bringing me back coffee and a bagel.”

 

“Coffee should help the headache. Why don't you go eat and I'll work on this and we can meet back on Skype in an hour?”

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Kurt agreed.

 

“I just need one thing first – can you turn around and pull up your shirt again for one second? I need to take a picture of the tattoo as a reference for my sketches” Blaine requested.

 

“Are you sure you don't want a picture to use for future humiliation purposes instead? Or to show our future children to dissuade them from ever getting a tattoo?” Kurt teased.

 

“I'd never purposely humiliate you. But the second one's not a bad idea, come to think of it. I could just say 'Kids, here's why you don't get a tattoo (or drink for that matter) – you could unintentionally end up with 'it gets wetter' tattooed on your body.'”

 

Kurt laughed in spite of himself. “Okay here,” he said, tugging off his shirt and turning his back towards the laptop screen, “hurry up and take your blackmail snapshot because I smell coffee and I need it now.”

 

“All done,” Blaine said a few seconds later after taking a screenshot from his video chat with Kurt. “Go enjoy your coffee and I'll talk to you in about an hour?”

 

“Mhmm,” Kurt responded. “Love you.”

 

“Love you more, my tattooed fiance.”

 

*

 

An hour later, Kurt returned to his bedroom, feeling much better. The coffee and bagel had helped his hangover enormously, dulling his throbbing head and queasy stomach to a bearable level. Kurt logged into Skype, eager to see what ideas Blaine had come up with to fix his current dillema.

 

“Hey babe,” Blaine greeted him on the second ring. “Oh you look like you are feeling a lot better,” he continued, peering at Kurt.

 

“I am, thanks. What about you? How'd the sketching go?” Kurt asked.

 

“Good, I think. I've got a few options and hopefully you'll be happy with one of them. I can always make adjustments or take suggestions too if you don't like what I've come up with,” Blaine reassured.

 

“Okay,” Kurt said, clapping his hands together eagerly. “Can I see?”

 

“Sure,” Blaine answered. “How do you want to do this? Want to see my favorite one first or save the best for last?”

 

“Let's do the best one first – I'm an impatient guy, after all.”

 

“You don't say?” Blaine laughed wryly. “I'd never noticed that.”

 

“Shut up,” Kurt admonished without an ounce of heat behind it.

 

“Make me,” Blaine teased, eyes twinkling.

 

“Maybe later if you're a really, really good boy. But for now, _focus_ – I want to see your sketches.”

 

“Okay,” Blaine nodded, picking up a sketchbook. So I spent some time thinking about things we associate with Finn – images, quotes, songs, etc. and...this is what I came up with,” Blaine finished, holding a piece of paper up to the webcam.

 

Kurt gasped, going quiet for almost a full minute, simply staring at his laptop screen, his eyes bright.

 

Blaine dug his nails into his palm, waiting breathlessly for some sort of response from Kurt. He knew that it was still hard for Kurt to talk about Finn's death, having been utterly blindsided by the unfairness of losing another member of his family under such tragic circumstances. But he couldn't stay silent any longer when he saw Kurt swipe at a tear that had fallen to his cheek.

 

“Sweetheart?” he called gently. “Are you okay? If you hate it or if it's too hard to do this now, we don't have to – we can talk about something else or do whatever you want, alright?”

 

“It's perfect,” Kurt said at last, voice thick with tears. “Those are drumsticks tied with a bow?”

 

“Yeah,” Blaine said. “Just like all Glee club kids put outside Finn's memorial. It seemed like a good symbol of our memories of him from Glee club. Plus the drumsticks are the right shape and size to cover up your old tattoo.

 

“And then underneath it says 'hold on to that feeling,' right? Just like the song?” Kurt continued, wiping at his streaming eyes.

 

“Just like the song,” Blaine echoed. “I know how much 'Don't Stop Believing' means to you guys. Then you said something earlier about wanting to have something hopeful to remember him by, and that quote just seemed to fit.”

 

“It really does,” Kurt nodded, still crying. “I love it, Blaine. I really do. It's exactly what I was trying to accomplish. I've just got one request?”

 

“Of course, anything.”

 

“Will you come with me to get it done this time? I could really use someone to hold my hand and make sure it doesn't get fucked up again.”

 

Blaine beamed at Kurt, pressing his hand to his laptop screen and stroking across Kurt's cheek. “Your wish is my command.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
